


Staying the Course

by AZGirl



Series: Musketeers - Season 2 [11]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s02e08 The Prodigal Father, Friendship, Gen, Missing Scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 19:13:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3580755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AZGirl/pseuds/AZGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because Aramis had been correct this – and the last – time, it didn’t necessarily mean that he was to blame every time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Staying the Course

**Author's Note:**

> I really thought I would be writing something about Porthos, but another scene in the episode stuck in my head, begging to be written about. So I did. Enjoy!

**ooooooo**

_“My undying gratitude.” – Athos, 2.08 The Prodigal Father_

ooooooo 

Once Camille had finished telling her story, Tréville, Aramis, and d’Artagnan left to escort the young woman to her quarters and made sure the other girls that they had rescued didn’t need anything more that night. Athos had stayed behind and was alone in the mess hall except for two of his fellow Musketeers who were playing chess on the opposite side of the room. He had watched the game for a while and quickly recognized that the two players were nearly evenly matched, but after a while his traitorous mind began to dwell on his recent confrontation with Anne. 

“You saw her again, didn’t you?” 

It took a lot of self-control to not physically react to d’Artagnan’s unexpected intrusion into his ruminations. 

“How did you know?” Athos asked, pouring more wine into his cup as his friend sat down across from him. 

D’Artagnan smiled and shrugged. Athos raised an eyebrow in silent askance, but d’Artagnan’s grin just grew wider in response. 

Realizing it was pointless trying to extract that particular piece of information, he let the matter drop. He decided that he really didn’t need to know. 

“You’ve been sticking close to the garrison lately because of Tréville… How did she find you?” d’Artagnan asked. 

“While you were with Constance at the graveyard, I went to a tavern. She said I was a difficult man to find.” 

“Really?” d’Artagnan said, sounding surprised and with no trace of mockery in his tone over the idea that Athos had been found drinking in a tavern. “I never have any trouble finding you.” 

Feeling a bit annoyed for some unknown reason, Athos murmured, “I’ve noticed.” 

D’Artagnan looked down for a moment before turning away to look towards the fire that was beginning to die down in the fireplace. From his friend’s actions, Athos immediately realized that not only had d’Artagnan heard him, but had taken what he’d said in the worst possible way. Before he could say anything to correct his blunder, the Gascon stood without a word and quickly left the mess. 

Athos made to follow, but by the time he got to the door, d’Artagnan had disappeared. Now annoyed for another, entirely different reason, Athos didn’t go looking for his friend and instead retired to his own quarters. 

He didn’t understand why he’d been so annoyed. What he’d said to his…with Milady was true, he did like to be difficult to find. Being difficult to find often kept you alive when you were a Musketeer. Even Aramis and Porthos had a trouble finding him when he did not want to be found. 

Somehow, d’Artagnan just seemed to have a knack for knowing which tavern he’d chosen to retreat to for the night. It wasn’t every night, but it was often enough that d’Artagnan would show up – either alone or with their friends – and sit with him while he drank. 

If he was honest with himself, he didn’t really mind all that much. D’Artagnan was good company and seemed to instinctively know his moods. His friend knew when conversation would be welcomed or tolerated and when to just sit back and quietly enjoy the flow of life around them. 

The nights d’Artagnan didn’t seek him out were usually the ones when Athos absolutely couldn’t tolerate the presence of the others, the nights he just wanted to be alone. 

He’d never had someone be able to read him so well; perhaps that was why he’d been short with d’Artagnan. However, his gut was telling him that wasn’t the only reason he had been annoyed. 

D’Artagnan has been witness to some of his worst drinking binges, his melancholy, his shame in regards to…to Milady, and on the wrong end of his temper, as evidenced by that evening. At what point would d’Artagnan decide enough was enough? 

Athos had admonished him recently by reminding d’Artagnan that he didn’t know Athos as well as he thought. That was largely true. His friend still had much to learn about him and most of that knowledge would only add to the list of faults, failures, and flaws d’Artagnan already knew about. When would d’Artagnan realize that he was not worthy of such devotion and loyalty? 

Athos opened another bottle of wine and started drinking straight from it instead of pouring another portion into his cup. 

His thoughts once more drifted back to Milady and he remembers the night where the devil woman had tried to burn him alive. Though the alcohol he had consumed had paved the way, that night had been the first time he had opened up to d’Artagnan. He had expected the younger man to judge him, to pity him, but neither of those things had happened. D’Artagnan had just seemed to accept the knowledge and continued on as if it didn’t make a difference in how he viewed Athos. 

Looking back, Athos realized that had been the turning point in their friendship. Without that night the _three_ Inseparables would not have become the _four_ Inseparables. 

And maybe that was the answer to his questions. They were the Inseparables. It just wasn’t in d’Artagnan’s nature to desert a brother in their time of need, no matter the consequences. 

Athos had wanted to be alone, but his encounter with Milady had left him unsettled and troubled. His aching need to be left to his own company had warred with his desire to share his burdens and d’Artagnan had come out the loser. 

No. _He_ had come out the loser. 

D’Artagnan had risked his ire to try and help him and he had carelessly said something that had driven his friend away. He had gotten what he wanted. He was alone, yet his mind was now filled with not only his meeting with Milady but his discord with d’Artagnan. 

He set the now mostly empty bottle back on his table and stood to head towards his bed. 

Sitting down, he removed his boots before rubbing a hand over his face. He was tired but he didn’t think he would be getting much sleep that night. 

One thing he knew for certain was that he must find a way to let d’Artagnan know that he was an idiot who only just realized how good a friend he had in the Gascon. He had to let the younger man know just how grateful he was for d’Artagnan’s friendship. 

ooooooo 

The next morning, Athos noticed that d’Artagnan was being careful to keep some distance between them at all times. He didn’t think Aramis or anyone else had noticed the Gascon’s actions as of yet, but if the idiotic behavior continued, it would be noted. 

Once Tréville had gone back into his office Athos, Aramis, and d’Artagnan headed downstairs into the courtyard. Soon they would be going to Belgard’s estate to arrest the Levesques and perhaps find evidence of the older man’s involvement, but for now they had some time to themselves to eat a meal and prepare. 

“Something to eat?” Aramis asked. 

Athos nodded his agreement, but d’Artagnan refused. 

“I already ate,” he said, turning towards his quarters. “I’ll see you both in a bit.” 

“Are you unwell, d’Artagnan?” Aramis asked. “You don’t seem quite yourself today.” 

D’Artagnan looked down at the ground for a moment before meeting the sharpshooter’s eyes. 

“Just a headache. I thought I’d rest up a bit in my room before we leave.” 

“You sure?” Aramis asked. 

“Positive. I just need a little quiet before we go bring Porthos back home again.”—d’Artagnan pointed a finger at Aramis—“Don’t you dare leave without me.” 

Aramis held his hands up in surrender. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

D’Artagnan grins then heads towards his quarters. Once their friend is out of sight, Aramis rounds on Athos. 

“Fix it. Now,” Aramis said. 

Athos had not expected anyone to have figured out that something was wrong so soon, but Aramis’s statement was a good reminder that d’Artagnan was not the only one who knew him well. 

Aramis pointed in the direction d’Artagnan had gone. 

“He refused food and you two haven’t spoken one word to each other yet today.” 

D’Artagnan refusing to eat usually signified that something was troubling him. However, the fact that they had not yet spoken, was akin to a signal fire ablaze in an open field – you could see it for miles. Maybe their discord was more easily noticed than he thought. 

“Why do you assume I am at fault?” 

Aramis just stared at him with an incredulous look on his face. 

“Fine,” Athos said, more than a little irritated at Aramis’ assumption. 

Just because the man had been correct this – and the last – time, it didn’t necessarily mean that he was to blame _every_ time. 

“I can tell he really does have a headache, so try not to yell at him,” Aramis counselled. 

Athos raised an eyebrow at his friend’s words. Did the other man think he would intentionally cause their younger brother pain? He would sooner— 

When Aramis’s face broke out into a huge grin, Athos turned away towards d’Artagnan’s quarters, thinking he should leave before he actually did intentionally hurt a brother. 

ooooooo 

Athos knocked on d’Artagnan’s door, trying to think what to say. 

When it opened, his friend asked, “Athos, are we heading out now?” 

“No,” he replied, briefly looking away and down the corridor. “I thought I would come find you for a change.” 

D’Artagnan’s expression froze for a moment before he nodded and stepped back far enough to let Athos enter the room. 

Athos had forgotten how small the rooms assigned to apprentice Musketeers were. He’d rarely been in the room, the four of them more often meeting elsewhere. In fact, nothing had really been changed; except for the weapons lying at the foot of the bed, it looked the same as the day d’Artagnan moved in. 

His friend had not come to Paris with much in the way of possessions. With his farm gone and his pay as a soldier, d’Artagnan would never have much to his name. Even if his friend were to be fortunate enough to end up with Constance, they would likely have a hard life. That thought reminded him that he needed to update his will. 

Athos was brought out of his thoughts by d’Artagnan bringing up a hand to rub at his forehead. Now that he looked at his friend and saw how tense the man’s shoulders were, the signs of a headache were obvious. 

“I apologize for disturbing your rest, but I just wanted—” 

“You don’t need to apologize, Athos. I knew you wanted to be alone, but it was also clear that…”—d’Artagnan shrugged—“Anyway, I should not have disturbed you last night.” 

D’Artagnan shifted his stance and ploughed on before he could reply. 

“I know I can come on a bit strong at times, so I want to apologize for forcing my company upon you. I will try to respect your—” 

“I don’t mind,” Athos blurted out. 

“What?” 

“I said that I don’t really mind. Please do not let an unthinking comment change things between us.” 

D’Artagnan stared at him, looking for something in his expression. He stood there patiently, letting himself by scrutinized, willing his friend to see just how much his friendship meant to him. 

Suddenly, d’Artagnan’s whole posture relaxed, the lines of tension on his face fading, and he nodded once. 

“Alright,” the Gascon said as a small smile graced his face. 

Athos nodded his head in return and matched the smile. 

D’Artagnan went past him to grab the room’s only chair from the corner. He moved it to face the bed and gestured for Athos to sit before taking a seat on the edge of his bed. 

Athos leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees. He wondered if it would be unseemly to confide in d’Artagnan so soon after the resolution of their conflict. He stared at his hands, which were clasped in front of him, unsure if he could say anything. 

An olive-skinned hand came into his line of sight and briefly gripped his clasped hands, which prompted him to look up. 

“Hey… It’s alright. Talk to me,” d’Artagnan said as he pulled back his hand. 

Athos briefly grinned. It seemed that his young friend had guessed his thoughts yet again. Now that he thought about it, he should’ve taken the fact that d’Artagnan had moved the chair from the corner of the room as the man’s tacit invitation to share his burdens. Sometimes he could be so blind. 

“You were right,” he began, meeting d’Artagnan’s eyes. “I saw her yesterday.” 

He pauses, waiting to see if the Gascon would say something, but when d’Artagnan does not, he draws in a breath and exhales slowly before continuing. 

“She wanted 100 livres in exchange for information that could help condemn Rochefort.” 

“Do you think she actually knows something or is it a scheme to earn coin?” 

“Knowing her, it’s probably both,” Athos said before sighing. “You?” 

“I don’t think she can be trusted, but”—d’Artagnan held up a hand to prevent his interruption—“I also think that we should keep her offer in mind, just in case.” 

Athos nodded and looked back down at his hands, a multitude of thoughts continuing to whirl around inside his head. 

“Want to tell me what’s really on your mind?” d’Artagnan asked. 

“You really must stop that,” Athos said, standing up from his chair. 

“Stop what?” d’Artagnan said, looking up at him from his seat on the bed. 

“Reading my mind.” 

D’Artagnan stood, but stayed standing next to his bed. “What? I don’t—” 

Athos smiled and held up a hand. “Peace, d’Artagnan. I’m just confounded by your skill in being able to decipher my moods and actions so well.” 

His friend crossed his arms in front of himself and looked away. 

“D’Artagnan, it is not a complaint but more of a…an observation.” 

The Gascon looked at him from the corner of his eye for a moment before turning towards him and nodding once. D’Artagnan then narrowed his eyes at him. 

“I hope you don’t think this”—d’Artagnan stepped forward a bit and leaned one hand on the chair’s back—“distraction will get you out of answering my question.” 

He should have known better than to try to deflect. Perhaps he should stop questioning d’Artagnan’s ability to read him and just accept it. Maybe someday he would be able to accept the care and concern without thinking everything would come to a horrible end. 

D’Artagnan remained standing beside the chair as Athos leaned against the far wall. He was being given the illusion of space within the small confines of the room. 

Athos crossed his arms and looked down at the floor in an unconscious mirroring of d’Artagnan’s earlier stance. 

“I know it is a futile exercise, but I keep hoping that she will be different, that she will be better, and yet she is not. She returns to her old ways every time.”—He straightened up from the wall—“I feel as if I am being drawn towards her, being pulled into her orbit, and that this time I won’t escape. I am falling under her spell once again, d’Artagnan, and fear that I will lose another person I hold dear because of her.” 

“You cannot know that, Athos,” d’Artagnan said before stepping forward to grip Athos’s shoulders. “Don’t let her get inside your head.” 

“She is already there!” Athos said, breaking out of d’Artagnan’s hold. “She has never left!” 

“Then don’t let her have any more power over you!”—d’Artagnan reached out to lay a hand on Athos’s forearm—“She has chosen her path, _you_ walk a different one. Right now they may intersect, but you don’t have to change direction. You do not walk your path alone. Let your brothers, let _me_ help you stay the course.” 

Before Athos could respond, someone knocked on d’Artagnan’s door. 

D’Artagnan took a couple of steps back towards it and said, “Enter.” 

Aramis stepped in and blatantly moved his gaze between both Athos and d’Artagnan. 

“How are you?” Aramis asked d’Artagnan. 

It was painfully obvious to Athos that Aramis wanted to know more than the status of d’Artagnan’s health. 

“Much better,” the Gascon replied even as a playful grin broke out on his face. “And my headache’s gone too.” 

Aramis matched d’Artagnan’s grin with one of his own, but before either of them could say anything more, Athos asked, “Does Tréville want to head out now?” 

“What? Yes. Well…almost,” Aramis said. He shrugged and added, “Five minutes. Just enough time for d’Artagnan to get a quick bite to eat.” 

D’Artagnan rolled his eyes but didn’t argue against getting some food. “Fine,” he said. 

Aramis smiled again and headed out of d’Artagnan’s room, while the younger man gathered his weapons. 

As they crossed the threshold, Athos reached out to grab the back of d’Artagnan’s neck, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. 

D’Artagnan nodded and they continued out the door and on their way to bring their wayward brother back home again. 

ooooooo 

_The end._

**ooooooo**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the encouragement celticgal1041!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
